Recall
by Fenroar Greyfront
Summary: Link thought he had put Hyrule, a painful past, and fantasies of an impossible future behind him when he joined the Order of Din - a notorious international organization of assassins originally founded in Hyrule. But the young assassin is beckoned home when trouble brews - big trouble involving the Princess, the kingdom, and potentially, the world. Modern AU. Zelink. SheikxLink.
1. Bullseye

**A/N: **Hello readers! Thanks for clicking. This is my first foray back into fanfiction after a very, very long time, and it was spurred on by Hyrule Warriors, and deep immersion back into the Zelink fandom.

A few facts about this fic:

\- This is a new iteration of Link and Zelda, as it is a modern day re-telling of the story. But, they bear similar physical features to the Hyrule Warriors, and Ocarina of Time iterations, with Skyward Sword's height difference. So, really, you can imagine them as any blondie Zelink that you like. Whatever floats your Zelinker boat, bruthah.

\- It takes place in the future of the Hyrule Warriors universe, I guess? 'Cuz that is a wild card, non-canonical universe, and I go ham and criss-cross worlds and characters shamelessly #sorrynotsorry.

\- **There will be violence. And sexy times.** **I'll be posting explicit versions of sexytime chapters on my tumblr**, and of course I'll notify you of all that in author's notes and what not.

\- This is a mammoth of a fic, and I'm planning to organize it in three parts. I will try my best to be on top of updates and all that as life permits. I really, really wanted and needed to get this headcanon out of my system, and have taken this as an opportunity to get back into writing to, so, I hope my rustiness is not _that_ evident.

\- High School AU is integrated into this. Heh.

**Random fun fact:** This started out as a #bedcanon (bed headcanon, hwahaha, I sew clevor), and was intended as a sexy assassin Sheik/Link one-shot. Then I slipped and that idea had a baby with _another_ modern headcanon I typed up on my tumblr, and it became _this_. Oops. #stillsorrynotsorry because sexy assassin Link of justice is always an okay thing.

Anywho, I will try my damnedest to deliver drama, fluff, action, adventure, angst, and sexiness to the best of my abilities. I seriously hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed dreaming it all up.

Feedback is always deeply appreciated, so please do leave a review on your way out if it's not too much trouble :)

Without further ado, I give you the first chapter of _Recall_. Henjoy.

* * *

_**PART ONE:** **HISTORY**_

**Chapter 1: Bullseye**

* * *

_**6 Years Ago**_

* * *

Bullseye.

Again.

He lowered his bow and turned to his stocky, red-in-the-face opponent, who was staring down at him with a scowl that meant to burn holes. His opponent was nearly a foot taller than him, his hair a chestnut brown and buzzed at the sides, the remaining locks swooping up at the front. The stylish do, however, did nothing for his piggish face and beady eyes, and the potbelly that the school's plain white button-down uniform concealed. Link had always thought of the boy as a large, humanoid pig – his face certainly always turned a pinkish-red enough to be so, whenever the two were around each other.

Biting back a laugh at his own imagery, Link stoically shifted his gaze to their burly and bearded physical education professor, Mr. Ivar, who was clapping his hands in delight.

It was "Tourney Tuesday"; the time of week the rotund, lumbering instructor, pitted the students against one another in athletic trials. It was also widely known as the time of the week that all the girls ogled at Link with coy gazes, and all the boys glared at him for finishing in first at every event.

Today was no different.

It was archery day, and Link had just outdone one of his regular tormentors in front of the entire class.

Again.

"Amazing again, Link! Marcus, maybe don't be so swift to release the arrow, yeah? Try… well, try _aiming_ first," Mr. Ivar said encouragingly, scratching at the tuft of chest hair peaking through his stretched out polo shirt. "Alright, next!"

The two stepped down, and the tall block of a boy pushed into Link forcefully with an angry grumble as he passed through. Link ignored the motion. He was used to such treatment by now, and had endured much worse during the course of his education at Hyrule's most prestigious boarding school, Daphnes Preparatory. He had only been able to attend due to the tuition cut he was given as the beloved, elderly head nurse's grandson. The elder woman was pushing him through school with hermeager salary and the money his parents had left him upon their passing – and Link's bullies never let him forget it.

Straightening his shirt, Link stepped back to join the crowd of his classmates at its front lines, though he stood alone amongst the many other students who were chatting amongst themselves.

He watched as the equestrian club president, Malon, took her place at the platform, smiling bashfully at Mr. Ivar.

"I'm not really very great at this," she said, holding the bow and arrow limply in her hands with a shrug.

"'salright dear, just give it a shot," he replied with a smile and a firm nod. "Now, who's not gone yet? There's enough of ya to be in pairs, right?"

The chatter went on, until a distinct hush fell upon the field. Link did not bother to turn and see why. Then there was a sudden burst of whispers, and Link would have finally looked over his shoulder to see what the fuss was about, if he did not feel a pair of pudgy hands squeezing his shoulders, foul breath coming from the side of his face.

"You make a fool out of me like that again, and I will beat the shit out of you, you fucking scrub," came the usual threats. Link remained unfazed, truly only fearful of the smell of Marcus's breath.

He was still faced forward and could see a girl he didn't recognize at the front of the class. All he could see was her waist-length light blonde hair that ended in a neat braid, and that Malon knew who the girl was because she wiggled her eyebrows at the girl teasingly and waved. Mr. Ivar, on the other hand, was wide-eyed and about to bow, but refrained from doing so.

"Oh! Uh, Princess Zelda! Right. Your turn, dear – I mean, your highness."

The _Princess_.

Link stared at the scene curiously, ignoring the foul smelling threats being harshly – and uncomfortably – whispered into his left ear.

He'd nearly forgotten, and could hardly believe, that he attended school with her. He had never had any classes with her, and had never even seen her in person until today. He recalled having shared lunch periods with her over the years, but had never managed to catch a glimpse of her in the flesh. She was usually surrounded by many, many friends, and he'd typically leave the building and eat alone outside during that time anyway.

He wondered how he hadn't noticed her in class before. It was already mid-September, and they were nearly a month into school.

The Princess stepped closer to Mr. Ivar and spoke with him in quiet tones, and Link could barely hear it over Marcus's threats and the murmur of students behind them. She was saying something about just coming back from the palace, and Mr. Ivar was nodding in understanding and scratching his head instead of his chest hair.

"… got it punk?" Marcus finished, pushing Link forward. He walked away and Link straightened himself out once more, glad for the fresh air.

"You were unable to catch the archery lesson," he heard Mr. Ivar say, "so you don't need to –"

"It's alright, Mr. Ivar, I'd like to try," she said warmly, sharing a knowing glance with Malon as she stepped around the redhead.

"Alright! I like your attitude!" the instructor said clapping his hands merrily. "Give it go, then."

"Of course I have to go against her royal highness, the master archer here," Link heard Malon say teasingly.

"Oh hush you," he heard the Princess reply, her voice light and pleasant to the ear. He was now extremely curious to see what her actual face looked like.

As Malon readied her bow, he could hear the vile comments coming from the band of spoiled rich boys behind him. He heard Marcus let out a: "_The princess is fucking hot, man. I don't need to get a bullseye to know where to stick it with her_," and someone else say "_do you get anything if you date a princess? Or at least bed a princess_?" putting Link halfway between rolling his eyes and punching someone's lights out.

Ignoring them, he focused on the range. Malon had pulled her bowstring back taut, only to drop her arrow. She turned nearly as red as the hair on her head and giggled nervously, turning to the Princess, who picked up the arrow and handed it back to her with a nod.

Malon tried again, and this time, released the arrow.

It landed in the middle of the field.

"Eh… good try, Malon!" Mr. Ivar said. "Now you, your highness!"

Link watched as the Princess's posture changed, straight, and in perfect form, and watched as her elbow slowly inched behind her, and then…

_Thunk. _

Bullseye.

Link's jaw dropped, and he saw Malon clap with glee. The entire class erupted in chatter as Mr. Ivar let out a "Wow! You're a natural, princess!"

Malon stepped down from the platform, and Mr. Ivar turned to stare right at him, and he picked his jaw up immediately.

"Link! You're up. See if you can best the Princess!"

He blinked a few times, and listened as the class fell silent.

"Come on now!" Mr. Ivar said, waving him over.

Link shifted his gaze to the Princess's back, and she turned around at that very moment, and everything else seemed to disappear.

So _this_ was the Princess.

She was different than how he had imagined.

She was not sporting the golden tiara he saw on magazines while in line at the grocery store. Her long, blonde side-bangs were instead held in place by a blue headband that matched the school uniform, and coincidently – or maybe not because she _was _the heir to the throne – the color of her eyes. They were a striking, sapphire blue and he felt inexplicably exposed and defenseless under her curious gaze. She wore very little makeup, and the school uniform suited her well, though it was strange to see her wearing something all the other girls at the school wore. The only thing that would have physically distinguished her as rich or affluent was the gleaming golden watch on her left wrist – and even then, the other rich girls had that too.

Yet, as much as she blended in, she still stuck out like a sore thumb to him. And he realized that it was the way she carried herself, and the wisdom in those eyes that were the clear indication of her regality.

And for all this, all he could process was: '_The Princess _is _hot.' _

He could feel his heart hammering in chest, pounding loudly in his ears as they held each other's gaze. He wondered if he looked as deer-in-the-headlights as he felt, because she seemed a little bewildered at the sight of him too.

"Come on now," Mr. Ivar repeated, the gruff voice pulling him from his reverie.

Link ripped his gaze from hers, ignoring how warm his face felt, and nodded slowly, walking up to take his place next to the Princess.

"Don't go easy on me, Link."

His eyes widened at the teasing tone, and he turned to find her shooting him a challenging smile.

Flustered, he blinked back at her and nodded. He was still registering the fact that the Princess of Hyrule was talking to him, and that he was standing within reaching vicinity of royalty – _he_, the class outcast and poorest kid at the school.

"You can go first if you'd like," she said, watching him with curious eyes, and he did not know what it was about her gaze that made him feel so awkward and naked.

Quietly attempting to calm his nerves, he nodded again and turned away from her, sucking in a deep breath to regain concentration.

_Draw. _

_Aim. _

_Steady. _

_Release._

Bullseye.

_Thank goddesses,_ he thought to himself, refraining from visibly slumping in relief.

He heard Mr. Ivar whisper "wow," and just now noticed that the class had gone dead silent.

Princess Zelda picked up her bow and arrow without even glancing at him. He watched her go through her own motions. Her back went straight, right arm steady as she drew the string back, sapphire blues cold and narrowed in deep concentration. He realized, eventually, that he was holding his breath for a reason unbeknownst to himself. There was just something alluring about watching a gorgeous girl take on the stance of a well-trained archer.

Before he could turn to look at the target, he watched her release the arrow, followed by a distinct _whoosh_ and _thunk_. The satisfied smile on her lips as she turned to look at him, and Mr. Ivar's whispered "wow", told him all he needed to know.

He turned to the range anyway and nodded in affirmation.

Bullseye indeed.

The Princess cast him a side-glance and a – was that a smirk?

He resisted the blush that threatened to rise to his cheeks, and picked his bow up again.

_Draw. Aim. Steady. Release. _

His arrow stripped his other down the center, and he quickly turned to see the princess's reaction. She nodded at him, "not bad" written on her face. Somewhat irked but mostly amused by her nonchalance, he gestured for her to try again. She returned the gesture with a grin.

And she, again –

Bullseye.

And he again, bullseye, then she, then he, then she, then –

"Where the hell'd you kids learn this?!" Mr. Ivar exclaimed confusedly, scratching his chest hair. "It, uh… it looks like a tie, then! The period is over, so, go on and get to your next classes everyone!"

The class dispersed, all whispering amongst one another, and the Princess lingered, and he lingered too because her observing eyes were keeping him glued firmly in place. She stepped up closer to him, and his knees felt like jelly, but he stood his ground, as she extended a hand out to him.

"I'm Zelda. It's very nice to meet you Link," she said and he absent-mindedly wiped his right hand against the side of his pants before hesitantly reaching to shake hers. Not sure if he should kiss the back of her hand or something weird and old school and royal-ish like that, he decided to reciprocate the shake instead. "You're quite the archer."

Trying to summon a charming smile of his own, but certain it had come out as more of a grimace than anything, he let out a "Likewise, your highness."

It had been a Tuesday, in the third week of September, during his second-to-last year at Daphnes Preparatory when Link first met the Princess.

* * *

_**Present Day**_

* * *

He woke with a start, the loud ringing blaring in his right ear. Sitting up straight in response, trying his best not to feel irritated, he ripped the phone from his nightstand.

"Hello?" he said, trying to mask the grogginess in his voice.

"You're not answering your messages, Layth. New mission for you. Check your computer."

The caller hung up before awaiting a reply, and Link swore at himself for the several missed texts on his phone as he rolled out of bed and padded over to his laptop.

The Labrynna morning sun was just now rising, peaking in through the cracks in his curtains as he took a seat and booted up his computer.

'_Who am I killing this week?'_

* * *

He leafed through the contents of the file at a leisurely pace, the papers illuminated by the moonlight shining in through the window. Settling back in the leather armchair with a sigh, he glanced down at his watch and watched the seconds tick away.

As the minute hand hit the twelve, he heard the jingling of keys from outside, and heard the door entrance open. After some more shuffling sounds, he heard the door click closed.

'_Like clockwork_,' he smirked to himself as he looked back down at the files in his lap.

He listened intently to the heavy footfalls stomping nearer to his location, and heard the flip of the light switch, the house illuminating instantly, followed by a sharp gasp and sound of keys and a briefcase hitting the floor.

"Who are you?!" cried a deep and hoarse, panicked voice.

"You're a hard man to find, Mr. Bulbin," Link replied, not looking up from his file. "And you'd think with your list of accomplishments it would've been easier, right? I see here that you've been quite active on the political circuit, under the radar… helping out some of your old chums on council, yeah? All generous contributions from your…" he flipped through the pages, "drug and child prostitution rings."

He finally looked up to see the large, green-skinned man, who looked as though his suit might burst from his blimp-like belly. His beady black eyes were filled with fear, and Link resisted the urge to smirk, and strained to maintain the intimidating scowl on his face.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" he exclaimed, patting down his pockets, likely searching for his cellphone. "Get out before I call the police!"

Bulbin's stout form waddled over to the phone on the wall, but quickly jerked away as a subdued bang was heard, the phone sparking, plastic bits falling to the floor. The shattered landline was now smoking, as was the tip of Link's silenced pistol.

The dark, golden blond shook his head, clucking his tongue in chastisement.

"You shouldn't start conversations with others while you're _in _one with someone else. It's not very polite," he said, putting the gun down on the arm of his chair. "Now, where were we? Yeah. Political money laundering, drugs, child prostitution rings," he said, shutting the folder with finality and tossing it on the floor, picking up the gun once more.

Dusting off his pants, Link looked up to find the green man pointing his own gun.

The young assassin allowed himself a grin.

"You messed with the wrong guy, pal," Bulbin said with a smirk, voice and expression dripping with arrogance, as he released the safety on his gun.

Link always found it funny how much faith his targets put in their weapons.

In response, he shrugged with a, "Nah."

Link lunged forward and the gunshot was loud in his ears, but Bulbin's bullet missed and hit the armchair behind him. In a flash, the young assassin pressed his gun into his target's fat neck, twisting his large, green wrist around as far is it would go, and the monstrosity of a man beneath him cried out before dropping the gun to the floor.

"What do you want?!" he whimpered.

Link _loved _this part of the job.

Watching criminals shrink and cry, that pleading look in their eyes that said they _wished_ they'd never done all of the terrible things that have put them in this situation – or that they wished they'd never gotten caught. Or that they'd never met _him_.

"You're gonna give me your files on all the wonderful people you're so kindly helping out," Link said, digging the silencer into the soft flesh beneath Bulbin's chin. "And maybe then, I'll let you go."

Bulbin nodded vigorously, and Link eased his grip, still holding his pistol out to the rotund man as he waddled towards the home's plush study. He took a seat at his desk, and Link handed him a small flash drive, which he picked up with shaking hands.

Twenty minutes passed, and Link had to stifle a yawn in favor of maintaining a steely and threatening demeanor.

"There!" Bulbin exclaimed, finally handing the flash drive back to Link. The blond pocketed it and gave the green man a facetiously kind smile, with a nod. "I've done what you asked, now get out of here!" Bulbin commanded, though his voice shook with fright.

There was a long silence, filled only with the man's heavy breathing.

Link blinked down at Bulbin, whose eyes were wide and focused on the gun in his gloved hand.

"Do you actually do things with them?" Link asked with a smile, his tone genuinely curious and nonchalant.

"What?" Bulbin snapped confusedly.

"I said, do you _do _things with them," Link repeated, waving his gun lightly, stifling a laugh as the man flinched at the motion.

"I –" his tone was desperate, eyes shifty, "I don't know what–"

"The _children_."

His facetious smile had been replaced by an austere frown, and Bulbin remained silent, his eyes now saucer-wide.

Link shook his head once more.

"No good, sir. No good."

The agents of the Order of Din showed no mercy for such criminals. Such was demonstrated by the click of the safety under his gloved thumb, which seemed to echo even in the small room.

"YOU SAID_–!_"

A muffled bang.

Gurgling and sputtering.

A heavy thud against carpeted flooring.

Then the night was quiet once again.

Link pulled out his burner phone and sent a text that read:

'_Done.'_


	2. Approach

_**A/N:**_ Shoutout to the… five people reading this fic. I _love_ you. Especially you, my sole reviewers,** The Reader** and Queen **Inlemoon**. *cries into pillow* This chapter is _more than_ twice as long as the last, so hopefully a few more of you will review and let me know if you like it or if I should just commit fanfic hara-kiri :D

A few notes:

\- You'll find a few cameos from some beloved Hyrule Warriors characters in this chapter and the next. And take deep cleansing breaths when we get there. *holds your hand and looks deeply into your eyes* **This is a _Zelink _fic through and through, remember that.**

\- **Part One will be the _only_ portion with High School AU**, and I'm estimating it will stretch out about six chapters in total. Think of Part One as the Child portion of Ocarina of Time, where I ease you into this world.

Lastly, **I had to contemplate whether or not to bump up the rating for this chapter, as it is rife with sexually suggestive moments **(it's pretty tame, but I personally would not read the **present day** portion of this chapter at work). Let me know what you think, if you have strong feelings about it either way, and I will gladly comply.

* * *

_**PART ONE: HISTORY **_

**Chapter 2: Approach**

* * *

_**6 Years Ago**_

* * *

The bell rang, rousing him from his nap at the back of the classroom. Slightly disoriented, he groggily lifted his head and wiped some drool from the corner of his mouth before standing, slinging his messenger back over his shoulder, and following the mass of students that were processing into the hall.

He shuffled slowly through the hallway, careful not to bump into anyone along the way, when his ears perked at the sound of his own name.

"Link? _Link_!" he heard, and he searched the sea of faces to see who was looking in his direction and –

The Princess was smiling and waving at him.

The _Princess_. Of Hyrule.

And archery, apparently.

Wide-eyed, he froze in place, quickly glancing over his shoulder to see if there was perhaps someone else named Link that she was calling to instead. When he confirmed that there were only students behind him that were glowering because he had stopped mid-hallway, he turned back immediately to stare at the Princess.

She was surrounded by her usual posse, who were shifting their gazes between the two in puzzlement. One even leant in and whispered something in her ear, at which the Princess rolled her eyes before turning back to Link, who looked as though he had been stunned by a Deku seed.

The Princess giggled at his disconcertment, and he straightened up at the reaction, feeling his face burn as he raised his hand to return the wave rather weakly, one of his unintentional grimaces spreading across his mouth. All the while, he wracked his brain as to why on _earth_ she was saying hello to _him_.

She only grinned and continued to walk in the opposite direction with her group, and his eyes tracked her as she disappeared around the corner.

Sighing heavily, he directed his gaze forward.

…to find the rest of the students in the hallway staring at him.

Swallowing hard and keeping his head low, he scurried down the cleared path, every bit as confused as his spectators.

* * *

Such short, wordless, and heavily observed encounters continued on for about a week, until October finally came around.

The leaves were turning, and orange and brown flecks scattered the perfectly green sod as he made his way from the dining hall exit toward his usual spot, paper lunch bag in hand. Finding a nice leafless patch of green, he took a seat right next to the school garden.

Shifting comfortably into his spot, he pulled his messenger bag off and surveyed the area, appreciating the serenity of the secluded campus and how open and picturesque the grounds were. He often ate here, at arguably the most scenic part of the campus. From here, he could see the tall, centuries-old stone buildings as they stood against the backdrop of the bright blue sky, trimmed with intricate shrubbery protruding from rich brown mulch. To his right was the school garden, with its square bushes and pastel flowers, its life-sized bronze monument to King Daphnes Nohansen situated in the center, standing proudly above the well-decorated greenery. To his left was the vast green field that stretched out many acres, the school temple, stadium and sports center visible in the distance.

Link took in the familiar sight and breathed in the crisp, autumn air, reminding himself that there were in fact merits to attending Daphnes Preparatory, and the gorgeous campus was one of them – of course, among its challenging curriculum, its nation-wide prestige, and its state of the art facilities.

The students and social atmosphere, however, were not included in this list. At least not to Link.

With only the quiet and the gently swaying plants and leaves for company on his lunch breaks, he often contemplated his high school career and his lack of direction and a social life. He was not this way out of a particular desire to be alone, however. He often considered joining an after-school club so that he could avail of the advanced sports facilities that always captured his interest during physical education classes.

But then he remembered that joining a club would mean having to interact with his predominantly mean-spirited and uppity schoolmates. So he refrained.

With a heavy sigh, he tipped his head up to the clear blue sky, wondering what kind of life awaited him beyond Daphnes Preparatory's walls. Indeed, he realized how fortunate he was to have the opportunity to attend such a prestigious school, considering his financial situation. And he knew that he should have sucked up his disdain for his affluent schoolmates and made use of the school's resources more.

But, more than he longed for friends and a life beyond half-assed schoolwork, he wanted _out_.

He simply did not fit in at Daphnes Preparatory.

And he did not _want_ to fit.

He yearned to know what it was like beyond the expensive green sod and stone walls. He yearned to be around people that would not hold his origins and tragic past against him. But, more than this, he yearned for freedom and adventure–something that would only be possible after graduation, which was still almost two years away.

Sighing heavily once more as he mentally ticked off another day closer to the blessed date of departure, he unwrapped his ham sandwich – when his ears perked at the sound of approaching footsteps crunching in the grass.

He looked up from his sandwich and–

The _Princess_.

She was holding her own lunch bag and staring directly at him, striding in his direction.

Link looked over his shoulder to confirm that she was indeed looking at and walking towards _him_, only to find a tree standing behind him. Resisting the impulse to palm his forehead at the repeat blunder, he turned back to find her standing there. She grinned amusedly at him and raised her lunch bag, shaking it lightly.

"Do you mind if I join you?"

He gaped up at her and blinked a few times just to make sure that he was not hallucinating. After a few beats, when he verified that this was in fact real life, he nodded slowly. When her previously tranquil composure seemed shaken in response, he caught himself.

"Oh!" he blurted, shaking his head vigorously. "No, I mean – _no_, I _don't_ mind, so, yes. You can. Sit. Here. If you want," he stammered, wanting to bash his head into the tree behind him. Such awkwardness was the price he paid for having a friend circle that consisted of only his grandmother.

Nevertheless, the Princess's demeanor immediately brightened at his response, and she took a seat next to him on the grass and opened her bag, pulling out a hot sandwich from the deli in the dining hall.

He suddenly felt the space become much smaller, despite her safe distance and the large and empty field stretching out beyond and around them. In addition, the cool fall weather was lost on him as he felt himself grow inexplicably warm under his scarf. Wordlessly, he cleared his throat and flicked a glance at her as he bit into his sandwich cautiously, taking care to be extra neat with his eating habits today.

He was not accustomed to eating with anyone but his grandmother these days, and now he was lunching with the Princess of Hyrule as company.

_Random. Odd. Weird_, he mused, gazing at her curiously from behind his food.

"I was very impressed with your archery skills," she began, before taking an elegant bite of her sandwich. She turned to him, blinking innocently, and he was fascinated at how widely her sapphire gazes could vary in intensity. Today, he did not feel _completely_ disarmed, though he was still having an internal panic attack at the fact that the Princess was actually here _willingly_ attempting to engage in small talk with him. "Where did you learn to shoot?" she asked, after discretely swallowing her bite.

"My father taught me when I was very young. I was about nine when he started me on the bow," he answered quietly.

"I see. Then he must have been a fantastic archer himself," she commented enthusiastically before taking another small bite.

"He was," Link replied with a small nod and a sad smile, before biting into his sandwich once more.

"He…?" confusion graced her features before realization hit. "_Oh_. I'm… I'm sorry," she said remorsefully. He shook his head with a smile, finding the concern that had washed over her normally indiscernable expression endearing.

"No, no, it's okay. It's been a while. And he _was_ very good," Link said reassuringly, giving a small wave of the hand to allay her worry. When the remorse only partially dissipated from her expression, he cleared his throat and tried to lighten the conversation. "But you're very skilled yourself, Princess. Where did you learn to shoot like that? I seriously didn't expect such mastery from..."

He trailed off as he watched her eyebrow arch inquisitively. His eyes widened and he stammered again.

"Ah, well not to say…I didn't mean–I just didn't–"

"–you just didn't expect a _princess_ to be so skilled at a sport," she finished for him, her expression challenging, yet thoroughly amused.

His mouth opened, then closed, and she laughed lightly through her grin. His ears only burned more.

"It's alright, Link. You wouldn't be the first. I have quite a few skills that many would also deem… unprincessly."

He was not sure if she had intended to simper and use a suggestive tone, but he began to sweat under his button-down and scarf anyway.

"I began archery lessons when I was a child as well," she said, and he was thankful that he did not have to be the one to inquire further about just what her unprincessly skills were. "I had to _beg_ for them. My parents were initially reluctant, but figured it wasn't _so_ dangerous and it was still... _elegant_ enough for a princess to take up. Eventually, they let me take lessons on the condition that I learned equestrian, so I took that up as well."

Link mused that equestrian sounded _plenty_ princessly.

"But," the Princess continued, cutting into his thoughts, "my father nearly _fainted_ when I said I wanted to take up fencing–"

"–you _fence_?" he interrupted with wide eyes, his mouth full of ham and bread. She stifled a laugh and nodded, and he continued to chew, mentally kicking himself.

But he was intrigued. He did not expect the Princess to want to take up such a combative sport.

"Yes, and, it wasn't exactly smiled upon when I took up Sheikah Martial Arts–"

"–you did SMA _too_?" he asked once more, before he finally physically bit his tongue in self-chastisement for his interruptions and full mouth.

But now he was _really_ intrigued.

He was already quite taken with how she handled a bow. He could only imagined how she looked in fighting stance with a Sheikah uniform on…

He felt his cheeks begin to burn before she cut into his thoughts once more.

"Why? Too unprincessly?" she challenged, and he only shook his head, his mouth tugging upward into a grin of its own volition. It was, perhaps, the first smile that did not feel so forced and awkward around her.

"Not at all. I just–those are some of my favorite sports," he said, astounded at the fact that he actually had common interests with the Princess–all of which were athletic and perceived as unprincessly in nature, as she had said.

"Oh?" she asked, seeming genuinely interested. He suddenly wondered if she was humoring him and actually thought that he was lying to impress her, but he nodded humbly anyway.

"I stopped short at the indigo sash with Sheikah MA a couple of years ago, and I used to compete in intramural fencing tournaments outside of school for the first few years of preparatory. But I just sort of dropped them both after…well, after a while," he said, not wanting to bring back the topic of his parents' death.

"I see…"

The blonde tapped her chin thoughtfully, eyes directed at the sky, and he admired her profile in the silence, noticing that he had actually become quite physically relaxed. While he continued to stare at her, still marveling at the fact that this conversation was taking place at all, he acknowledged how natural speaking with her felt. Never had he thought himself capable of being comfortable in the Princess's presence.

"Then we should spar some time!" she said zealously, interrupting his musings as she peered at him with that same paralyzing and challenging gaze he recalled from the archery range. "None of my friends know _anything_ about fencing or Sheikah MA. They all either do equestrian or go shopping for sport," she said with a roll of her eyes.

He swallowed hard. The thought of potentially bruising the Princess in any way shape or form made him weary–as did the thought of engaging in adrenaline pumping, intimate contact with someone that he was, admittedly, rapidly developing a stupid and impossible crush on.

"Uh… would that be a good idea?"

"Why? Afraid you'll lose?" she teased, cocking her head slightly, eyes glittering with playfulness though her voice was edged with confidence and self-assurance.

He paused, mouth ajar for a moment as he thought of his reply.

The Princess was clearly not one to be underestimated, if her archery skills were of any indication. And if she was challenging him, she must have known her stuff.

"Honestly? Kind of," he said with a nod.

She blinked at him mutely, apparently not expecting such a response.

A few moments of pure silence passed, and he reddened under her baffled expression.

And then she broke out into a fit of laughter, crowing freely, before bringing her hand up to daintily cover her mouth. He suddenly felt very pleased with himself for being the cause of the mirthful sound filling his ears.

As her laughter wore down, she sighed and leant back on one hand, crumpling the paper that had held her sandwich. She turned to look at him once more, her demeanor instantly changing, gaze just as probing as the day they met. He did not look away for fear of seeming rude, but found it very difficult to maintain eye contact.

"Sorry for disturbing you," she said out of the blue, her tone apologetic. "It just gets a little suffocating in the cafeteria with _everyone_ there, and I just –"

"No, not at all," he cut in instantly, and she seemed stunned at the speed of his reply. He mentally chastised himself for sounding so eager, and cleared his throat. "I mean, my sandwich and I were not in anyway disturbed," he clarified.

A fond smile spread across her lips and he felt his stomach flip.

"Then you wouldn't mind if I joined you again?"

"_Yes_. I mean _no_, I _wouldn't_ – so, yes, you are welcome to. Join me. Again. If you want. To," he stammered, astonished at his own lack of eloquence. He resolved to be less awkward if she did indeed decide to join him again.

And he had to look away from her grinning face to stop from turning completely red, looking past her and at the cafeteria windows instead. There, a curious sight met his eyes, and he squinted to find the Princess's usual flock of friends gathered at the windows and staring back at him.

Upon closer inspection, he realized that they were in fact looking at both he _and_ the Princess, chattering amongst the random students that stood by the windows with their camera phones out. Link sunk back, shoulders slumping, a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"Though… there would be _that_," Link said, gesturing at his discovery.

The Princess shot him a look of confusion before following his gaze. He had expected her to gather her belongings and scurry off at having been discovered lunching in private with the antisocial school granny's boy outcast.

Oh, how the rumors would likely _rage_ after this.

But much to his surprise, she did not rise, and instead turned back to him with an inquiring look.

"What is it?"

"Your friends are…" he jutted his arm out towards the window, hoping that the distressed gesture would serve as enough explanation, but the indifferent query on her face remained. "They're – they're _staring_. And people are taking pictures," he clarified, perplexed by her nonchalance.

She blinked at him silently before letting out a small "hah". Then she smiled and shrugged, leaning back on both hands.

"Then let them."

His jaw went slack as he blinked at her, wide-eyed.

"Now, where were we?" she picked up, turning her back on the windows to face him fully. "Ah, yes. I believe we were talking about sparring and your completely rational fear of suffering a crushing defeat in a match against me?"

His mouth flopped open and closed in bewilderment.

Princess Zelda was just chock-full of surprises.

* * *

_**Present Day**_

* * *

The doorman that had greeted him for the past four nights nodded at him knowingly, allowing him passage into the dark entryway.

From the staircase, he could already hear the sensuous music, heavy with bass and a slow thrumming synth, a raspy female voice crooning over the hypnotizing tune. The music grew louder and clearer as he descended the dimly lit path, the journey illuminated only by the glowing red lamps that lined the walls. When he finally reached the lower level, he parted the black velvet curtains to the familiar sight of the shadowy and ritzy gentleman's club.

Metallic chandeliers hung from the ceiling, fitted with enchanted sconces, a dark red fire flickering within, giving the entire place a dark and sensual ambiance. The club's furnishings were a fusion between classic and contemporary, the chairs and tables all black with intricate moldings, the lounge areas curved with crimson velvet couches. Tonight, the well-hidden establishment was packed with many suited middle-aged men being tended to by scantily clad women. Those that were not gawking at the stage towards the front of the grand room were either receiving lap dances, or enthusiastically chatting up the women on the floor, drinks in hand.

Link made his way towards the bar, oxfords clacking against the black marble tiles as he straightened his collar and stood taller. He ordered his usual bourbon before taking a seat at a lone, unoccupied couch, and sipped his drink lightly, before setting it down on the small table to the side.

Looking up, he sat back, arms crossed as he observed his surroundings. Upon the stage were attractive, buxom, and barely clothed figures working the poles with what he could only describe as very skilled acrobatics. He withheld a snort as he watched a chubby, well-to-do suited man slide a one hundred rupee bill into a pole dancer's lingerie. The woman threw the man a smirk before returning to her pole and dipping into a squat, before rising and swinging around the pole, bending into it so that her rump was slowly swaying to the beat of the music right in the man's face.

Grimacing as the man stood to lean more into the woman's behind, Link turned away to further scan the room.

It had been his fifth night at the club, and nothing seemed out of place. The men around him were likely a mix of businessmen and criminals, all wealthy, drunk, and thoroughly enjoying the company of the nearly naked upscale strippers.

With a sigh, Link sat cross-armed in his chair, trying not to look as stone-faced as he usually did, and attempted to blend in as much as possible.

Acting was a pivotal part of his job with the Order, after all.

His target for the evening was the club owner, Volga Draconis. After taking all of Bulbin's information and perusing his appointments for the week, the name had been highlighted and scheduled for tonight. Link then researched Volga's background to find that he had formerly been a senior detective with the Labrynna Police Department. While his official record was clean, likely due to his clout and connections with the police force, it was clear that he had gotten involved with the wrong people and chose to pursue an edgier, more lucrative career, working around the system that he knew so well.

Link had been at the club for the past four nights in order to get a better picture of what Volga's business with Bulbin could have been. Considering the fact that the said location was an underground, extremely private and lavish gentleman's club that was likely teeming with "high-class" prostitutes, he wagered it had something to do with Bulbin's own prostitution rings.

The Order had approved his request to act on the Volga lead, though Horwell, his handler and mentor, had joked that it was all just to get Link to _finally_ go to a strip club – and _maybe_ get some.

And so, Link had spent the past four days getting well-acquainted with the location, its regulars, and its exit routes. He had looked at floor plans and knew that Volga's office was in the back, guarded thoroughly by burly suited men.

Today was Bulbin's scheduled meeting with Volga, and he had every intention of showing up in the green man's stead. However, he was not sure how to go about gaining entry to the back. Judging from the well-guarded archway behind many drunken civilians, brute force was not going to work and would only cause commotion.

He thought on the tools he had on his person. He had, of course, come equipped with his usual weapons, which included his switchblade, and his gun and silencer. But this time, he brought along capsules packed with paralyzing powder and Sheikah truth root. He planned to question Volga in a more humane way, as there was a slim possibility that he would not have to kill him. Whether or not the former detective would live was all contingent upon the true nature of his business, and his working relationship with Bulbin.

With a sigh, Link continued to peruse his surroundings and begun to formulate a plan, scanning the area again for possible holes–when he locked gazes with a lascivious pair of violet eyes with bright red for pupils. He stared curiously at the peculiar color, and perhaps for a little too long, when he realized too late that he had beckoned her forward with his attention.

He maintained his stony expression as she slinked towards him, shapely body covered immodestly by only black triangles of cloth strategically placed on her large breasts, the cloth on her crotch hanging low on her hips, covering only what it needed to.

She raked a tan hand through her white, accented bob as she maintained her lustful gaze, moving towards him with purpose, tall stilettos clacking with every step, until she reached his vicinity and began to dance for him.

It was not long before she stood before him, sliding his legs open with her knee, her hands pulling his arms uncrossed as she began to dance upon him.

He remained still as stone, maintaining his stoic expression as he watched and felt her all over him. She guided his hands to her thighs, and he did not protest, but merely rested his palms there as she began to gyrate.

She leant down, her cheek grazing his and no doubt catching the prickles of the stubble that he had purposefully grown out in order to look less baby-faced for the mission.

"You come around here often, baby?" she purred into his ear, and he craned his neck so as to put some distance between them. It was a lost cause, however, considering her rather intimate position on his lap.

"Only as of recently."

"What's your name?"

"I didn't know your job included conversation," he replied gruffly.

She only laughed as she pulled back and turned so that her rump was grinding into his crotch. He clenched his jaw at the sensation despite himself, hands fisting at his sides.

He closed his eyes to maintain his cool, and what immediately flashed before him was the weight of a disappointed sapphire gaze that tore into his heart.

"Some men like it," the woman said, pulling him from the blue that had taken over his mind, as she turned to straddle him once more. "But if you're not into that, we can just skip the formalities and get to the good stuff," she said, back of her hand grazing his stubbled face.

Bingo.

This was his in.

His expression softened as she continued her motions, and he voluntarily placed his hands on her smooth, tan hips, sliding them down her sides. She used the motion as encouragement and continued to move against him.

"So, this doesn't have to end here?" he asked suavely, voice now husky and low.

"Not if you don't want it to."

"And where will you take me?" he pressed, whispering into her neck as he let his hand smooth down her tan thigh. He closed his eyes and was once again no longer in the club, but was years younger, watching porcelain skin turn pink beneath his touch, long, long golden hair strewn about on pillows, a flushed face and dilated sapphires peering down at him with want, and he felt both longing mixed with guilty nausea.

The woman upon him sucked in a breath at his hand's caresses, and he opened his eyes, returning to the club and the mission at hand. She climbed off his lap and leant in, her nose nearly brushing his.

"How about I show you?" she said with a coquettish smirk, her voice low and silky.

Though the guilt and nausea was still very much present, he returned the lustful gaze as best as he could, licking his bottom lip for good measure, and then nodded. She reached down and grabbed his wrist, pulling him forward, and the action served to make him nauseous with more misplaced nostalgia.

They walked through the dimly lit club, and came to a curtained archway, where a hulking figure suited in black stood.

He gave Link a scrutinizing eye before nodding at the woman in front of him, allowing them passage.

The white-haired woman parted the velvet curtains, which opened to a hallway, similar in ambience to the staircase. It seemed more like a plush hotel, with the espresso-wooden wainscoting, and vintage golden wallpaper, which reflected dimly in the red-glowing lamps that were affixed to the walls. The woman dragged him down the hall, and led him into the fifth door down.

She opened the door to a sparsely decorated room, furnished with only a bed and a desk. The furniture appeared mostly classic in design, the blankets adorning the queen-sized bed matching the walls outside in pattern. The room itself maintained the same lighting as everywhere else in the club–dim and red, but light enough to see.

"Lights off?" the woman asked, stepping in close to him as she reached for the light switch behind him.

"Keep them on. I want to watch you," Link rasped quietly, surprising himself with his own confidence and how convincing his acting skills had become upon joining the Order.

She laughed throatily, her hand sliding down the front of his shirt, right before she turned and slinked over to the bed in the darkened room and sat on its edge. She spread her legs wide, and it took everything in him to not look away and be reduced to the shy prep school boy he was all those years ago.

"I'm Cia, by the way. What's your name?" she asked, and he let out a small laugh.

"Does it matter?"

"I think so. You know, just so I know what to call out when you…" she trailed off, her hand sliding up her own thigh to snap at the waistband of her panties.

He blinked down at her before removing his blazer and stepping towards the small desk at the corner of the room. He draped his jacket over the chair, feeling her eyes on him as he dug into his jacket pocket.

There he felt the forever stained handkerchief he always carried. Then his gun. Then the silencer. Then he finally grasped his target and pulled out a small paralyzing-truth capsule. The woman had served her purpose, and he thought it best to paralyze and quickly question her so that he might escape quietly and finish his job faster.

"Do they have drinks in here?" he asked over his shoulder.

She gestured to the minibar sitting beneath the desk. He pulled out a bottle of bourbon and two glasses, pouring himself some.

"Did you want some?" he questioned, but he had already begun to pour her drink. He slipped the small capsule in, watching it dissolve almost instantaneously, before pulling out his chair and taking a seat.

"You don't need to be nervous, baby," she said, standing to prowl over to him once more. "I'll play nice."

"I'm sure you will," he said, gesturing at the drink by her. She just shook her head and reached down to his buttons.

"Hey, not so fast," Link said, placing a hand on hers and pushing it away gingerly. "I'd like to enjoy my drink. Why don't we chat a bit first?"

She stared at him, her confident, sultry composure slightly shaken, though she strained to maintain it.

"I thought you weren't one for conversation," she said, the irritation evident in her voice as her hand smoothed over his cheek. He blinked back up at her stoically.

"Not typically, but… I'd like to know more about this establishment and the man who runs it."

She frowned, her hand sliding from his face.

"And why's that?"

"I like to be thoroughly informed about my… my new watering holes," he said with a wink, and the smirk broke out on her face once again.

"Well, I can't tell you much because I don't know about all that. All I know is what I do," she said, staring down at him, her hand sliding over his shoulder, fingers gripping his collar. "And I'm very _very_ good at what I do."

"I'm sure you are," he replied with a nod. "But _before_ you show me… Volga Draconis, that's your boss's name, yes?"

She looked at him with scrutinizing eyes, as a look of realization swept her features. She gave a quiet and knowing closed-mouth laugh as she trailed her index finger up his neck.

"You want _information_," she said flatly, though her eyes retained their lustfulness. "_That's_ why you're here."

"If you share, I can make it worth your while," he replied, sipping on his drink. "I can pay you _double_ what –"

"No," she said curtly, her fingers sliding around the back of his neck, trailing up into his hair. "I don't want _money_ from you."

He withheld a heavy sigh.

"Then what do you want?" he asked tiredly, already knowing the answer, and knowing it was something he was not willing to give.

"I think that's pretty clear," she said, her hand now undoing the next button on his shirt.

He wondered what kind of prostitute turned down a hefty sum of money. Wasn't that the whole point?

Bemused, he raised a hand to hers, preventing her from unbuttoning any further.

"I'm afraid I can't."

"Oh, I think you can. You don't seem to have any problems down there, from what I could tell out on the floor," she said, stepping closer, her leg flush with his.

"I just don't think my girlfriend would take too kindly to it," he lied with a shake of his head.

He did not have a girlfriend, but he knew that his self-loathing conscience would not take kindly to it.

She seemed to sense it, laughing airily.

"Fresh-faced university boys like you don't just stroll into a place like _this_ to _talk_," she said, parting his legs with her knees once more. "And there are _many_ men in your position that have had the pleasure of experiencing what I have to offer despite their… commitments."

"Many men, huh?" he quipped through a laugh, and she ignored him, her other hand brushing his bangs back out of his face.

"You won't even remember her name by the time I'm through with you."

_I seriously doubt that,_ he thought, now growing frustrated with her persistence. He moved back in his chair so that her breasts would not suffocate him, and thought about whether or not to pull his gun on her. He quickly decided against it, figuring she would scream and alert the security, thus throwing his whole mission. As she moved further up onto his lap, his eyes shifted to the glass that had been meant for her.

"Maybe… you're right," he said placing his hands on her thighs and pushing her back further off of his lap and away from his crotch. "If I… do as you wish, will you tell me what I need to know?" he asked, his palm smoothing over her bare thigh, sliding down to her smooth behind, guilt consuming him once more.

"_Anything_," she purred at his touch before leaning down to kiss him, but he held a hand up, and her lips met with his palm instead. He awkwardly pushed her face away from his.

"Then drink with me first. That's my only request," he said, gesturing at her drink once more. He grabbed his own and raised his glass, and she stared down at him and climbed off, clearly dumbfounded at his behavior.

"You're a strange one," she murmured with a shake of her head, grabbing her glass. He raised his drink to her again, and she tossed hers back with a few gulps, and then slammed the empty glass down on the desk with finality.

Her eyes now alight with a primal desire that scared Link more than anything, she strode back over to him, pulling him to stand by the front of his shirt.

He stood obediently, counting down the minutes to when the drug would take effect.

As she pulled him in, he committed to playing his part.

Cia smashed her mouth onto his, greedily nipping and sucking, and he felt sick once again as her hands yanked his shirt forward to untuck it from his pants. Though his hands encircled her waist, he squeezed his eyes shut, and he imagined those sapphire blues that he so desperately missed, a mess of long, blonde hair fisting in his hands, and he yearned for _that_. He yearned for _that_ girl's lips, yearned for _that_ girl's light, flowery scent, yearned for _that _girl's moans and the feel of her small, soft hands shakily exploring his body.

But as his senses heightened, he could only smell alcohol and pungent perfume that smelled nothing like the girl he wanted, felt hands too big and adventurous to be hers, and his mouth was bitter from both the drink and his own self-disgust.

As he counted down to the last second, he wrenched Cia's hands off of him, and pushed the woman onto the bed, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and staring down at her crazy-eyed smiling face as she spread her legs to him once more.

But he merely stood and watched as her eyes began to widen, her limbs going completely slack, head falling back onto the bed, legs falling limp.

He withheld a sigh of relief.

"What… did you do to me?" she croaked, her eyes following his moving form.

He buttoned his shirt back up as he walked towards the desk and grabbed the chair, placing it bedside before pulling the sheets and rolling them over to cover her barely clothed body.

"Your drink had paralyzing powder infused with some ancient Sheikah truth root. It won't have any long term effects," he said, tucking his shirt back into his pants. She glared at him as he took his seat. "Now. Information. Who do you work for?"

Her teeth clenched as though she was fighting hard to hold her response in.

"I don't _work_ for anyone!" she blurted, frowning deeply at her lack of control.

Despite her answer, Link arched an eyebrow confusedly. The truth root should have already started working in conjunction with the paralyzing powder, and she was very clearly a prostitute working for the club.

"Then what is your association with this club?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"I'm Volga Draconis's _business partner_," she blabbed again.

His eyes widened in surprise.

She certainly didn't move or dress like a businesswoman.

"Okay…" he said, still not quite believing it. "Explain."

"He and I met while he was at Labrynna PD. I was charged for a series of grand thefts, and he let me off easy on the condition that we did business together. We started this club together using the money from my previous jobs. I manage operations here, while Volga brings in the business," she said, clearly irritated with the mouth she no longer controlled.

"Then why were you out on the floor tonight?" he asked, still trying to process that fact that the crazy woman before him was an _owner_ of the club and not a prostitute. She played the part a little _too_ well.

And he figured out why, when her look of annoyance changed instantly, her face breaking into a wide-eyed, crazy grin, at which he jumped back into his seat reflexively.

"I had seen _you_ come in a few times over the past week and I wanted to meet you. I wanted to rip your clothes off and ride your –"

"Okay, alright. Thank you," he interrupted, putting his hand up and rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "So what _business_ is Volga involved with?"

"Normally, he just works on getting new clients and regulars through his networks. But recently, he's started working with gang leaders in the area."

Bulbin.

"Doing what?"

"His latest project is the Labrynna sex trade, getting young girls in from Twilight and offering them up on the menu at this club."

So the situation was worse than he thought.

Link's face darkened immediately at the admission, distress clear on Cia's face in turn. He pulled his blazer from his chair, his movements mechanical as he grabbed the gun from his inside pocket and began to screw the silencer on.

"And what is _your_ involvement with those plans?" he asked, eyes steely as he looked up at her over his gun, turning the silencer over slowly in his fingers.

Her eyes widened and the words flowed freely.

"I don't have _anything_ to do with that, it's–it's _new_, alright? And it's not a _thing_ yet. I just manage the club and the brothel–our girls here are all _willing, _upscale escorts."

"Are you sure about that?" he queried as the silencer finally screwed on tight.

"_YES._"

"Then why do you continue to work here, knowing what's going to happen?"

Her eyes glossed over, her chin beginning to wobble as though she might burst into tears.

Link felt no sympathy.

"I'm looking after my younger sister–she doesn't know what I do for a living, alright?! But–but it puts food on the table and it's putting her through school! And I don't speak with Volga unless it's about the club and the money, I only overheard him speaking with this weird fat green businessman before our meeting last week! I _swear_, I have nothing to do with that trafficking stuff!"

He took in the fear in her eyes, weighing the gun in his hand before standing.

She eyed him apprehensively, blinking the unshed tears from her eyes, unable to move anything else. He only shook his head and put on his blazer, before tucking his gun behind his back and into the waistband of his pants.

"The drugs should wear off in the next hour. I suggest you put some clothes on and _run_ when they do."

He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a heavy coin sack, and tossed it onto the bed.

"For your 'services'," he said before turning and walking towards the door. As he exited the room, he heard her begin to say:

"Oh my _goddesses_ I want you _now_ even more than–"

And he shut the door with a shake of his head and turned down the hallway, walking further into the bowels of the underground club in search of Volga's office.

* * *

_**A/N:** _Shhhh, it's okay now. That's the last you'll see of Cia. Forgive me for my Zelink sins. Please don't hurt me. I shall make up for it eventually...

The scene juxtaposition was intentional, if you were wondering. Props if you caught on.

And, the music playing when Link enters the club is "Waiting Game" by Banks (she's fantastic, and I'll likely use another of her songs later on in this fic). The song is thematically relevant to this fic, as you'll see later on.


End file.
